Monkey Business - Sarah Lolley

The botanical gardens in Dalat, Vietnam, were a total bust – as scrappy and uninspired as a miniature golf course, despite the inflated entry price for foreigners. My boyfriend, Jack, and I were about to leave when we spotted the monkey enclosure, where five scruffy monkeys hoped around in individual cages.

As we approached, one of them climbed up the bars of his cage to our eye level. Jack laughed in surprise and leaned in to get a better look at the monkey. The monkey leaned in to get a better look at Jack. The two stared at each other for a moment. Then, in a flash, the monkey reached through the bars, snatched the sunglasses off Jack's face, and retreated to the middle of its cage.

The sunglasses weren't expensive – we'd bought them at a gas station in the Australian Outback earlier on our backpacking trip – but Jack loved them, mainly because of the cheesy race car-esque flames down the sides. Glumly, we watched the monkey chew on one of the arms of the sunglasses.

Figuring someone might have a key to the enclosure, Jack headed off in the direction of the ticket booth. He was already out of sight when I remembered the banana in my bag.

Seeing me take it out, the monkey lost all interest in the sunglasses, dropping them in the dirt and jumping up to my level again.

“So,” I addressed the simian, in the voice of a stern librarian. “You're an intelligent animal, and what I'm proposing is a simple trade. You have something I want,” I said, pointing at the sunglasses. The monkey looked down at them, then back at me.

“And I have something you want,” I concluded, holding up the banana. I brimmed with self-confidence. This plan is brilliant, I said to myself.

A young Vietnamese couple wandered over. They watched me for a few moments, then called out to another Vietnamese couple, who came rushing over.

That's right I thought, proudly. Come see how amazing we Canadian travellers are I kept up my assertive negotiations.

A group of five Vietnamese men in business suits joined us. A rapid-fire Vietnamese exchange ensued between the couples and the businessmen. The men all looked at me, incredulous. Two started giggling.

A crack formed in the bedrock of my poise. I tried to ignore it, but nothing doing.

Suddenly, I saw myself as my audience must have. “Give me the damn glasses,” I snapped at the primate.

Over the next few minutes of fruitless, one-way conversation with the monkey, my confidence was replaced with burning shame. It became clear that I wasn't going to get the sunglasses back. Even worse, I now had a group of spectators to face up to.

It was at that exact moment that the monkey hopped down to retrieve the sunglasses, ambled over to the side of the cage, extended his little monkey arm outside the bars and let go. He then ran back up the bars to my level and reached for the banana.

There was a stunned silence. All eyes, including the monkey's, were on me.

Was it a trick? Slowly, I retrieved the sunglasses. For a brief second, I thought about leaving the monkey high and dry, but fair was fair. I placed the banana in his tiny paw.

“Sarah”

I turned to see Jack approaching, two Vietnamese groundskeepers in tow. I smiled victoriously, suddenly loving the Dalat Botanical Gardens, and held up the sunglasses for all to see.